


you welcome the pain, for this time it heals

by CalledFor



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalledFor/pseuds/CalledFor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early into their relationship, things are of course not perfect. Carmilla and Laura are two very different people and after they have a fight, it gets too much for Carmilla, so she leaves to (for lack of a better word) breathe. She's gone for days without so much as a text, leaving a very worried and angry Laura to herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you welcome the pain, for this time it heals

**Author's Note:**

> I go by honestlynatalie on tumblr. Come say hi! Also, I crave feedback, so that would be much appreciated.

When she shows up again, you don’t expect it. It’s been days and you were beginning to think she wasn’t coming back. It’s not like she hasn’t been gone this long before; you’re used to it, but it was never because of you. She opens the door to your dorm abruptly, not caring about being quiet and you jump in your chair. When you turn around, your first instinct is to worry. It’s not like her to make noise, to draw attention.

Carmilla looks wild where she’s standing in the middle of the room, chest rising and falling fast. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes wrinkled, her eyes dark and wide. It looks like she’s been walking in the middle of a storm. It occurs to you that she could have been. You have no idea where she goes when she leaves. For all you know she could’ve been in another country, or simply just rolling around on the ground as a giant cat in the forest around campus. You just don’t know.

Now she’s standing there with that wild look. She’s so beautiful and you are so angry. You’re so angry with her, you can feel your fists clench because she left you again! Without a fucking word. You know she’s perfectly able to take care of herself, but the worry takes hold of you like a fist around your neck. You want to scream and shout like no tomorrow, really lash out and make her understand that she can’t just _do_ this. Stupid, useless vampire!

But she is _so beautiful_. It makes you breathless.

And you can’t bring yourself to scream at her because you remember that all she’s ever known are harsh, bitter words. Cold commands from fake smiles. Praises in a tone so condescending that she has forgotten that they are not praises at all, only invisible ropes to hold her down. You realize no one has been angry with her because of love.

It makes you get up from your chair and step towards her. You’re shaking – shaking because it boils and burns and consumes. It’s probably the most important thing you’ve ever felt, after the relief of seeing her swallow the blood you poured into her mouth when she was carried back to you.

You’re so angry that you kiss her.

You don’t think she’ll get the words anyway. Carmilla doesn’t communicate love like that, so you try her language instead.

It only fuels your rage. Because the moment your lips are on hers you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss her harder, opening and closing your mouth, almost forgetting that your tongue can be used for more than speaking. She reminds you by showing you just how, her initial surprise of being kissed like that wearing off. Maybe she expected anger, maybe she expected you to hit her. You know she didn’t expect this.

She turns you around and backs you into the wardrobe. You hit it rather hard, but you greet the sting. Anything to make you feel that she’s here. You’re moaning into her mouth when she presses herself against you. Her lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give her access to where she finds you the most physically vulnerable. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If she wants it, it’s hers.

It is not so much the consuming as it is the giving, that makes you ache to give yourself over. You thrive on being able to give her what she craves most in this world. Simultaneously, you thrive on being able to deny it. You know she would stop at your command and it gives you a sense of power that’s unparalleled to any other experience.

(Still, the pain of her bite is addictive.)

Carmilla doesn’t take it. Instead, her mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against her. You cling to her, grabbing her shoulders and sliding your hands down her shirt, to her back. You can’t help but scratch your nails along her skin because, even though you absolutely just want her to take you this very moment, you are still so angry with her. It’s not like you really want to hurt her (you know that the marks you make will heal in seconds), but _god damn it_ , if she could just feel for a second the impact her actions have on you, then maybe, just maybe she’d understand.

There is an answering snarl in your ear before you are hoisted up to wrap both legs around her waist, and then you find yourself staring into dark, dark eyes. The world just stops for a few seconds and you swear you see the stars she speaks so fondly of. Maybe she has stared at them so often, they’ve imprinted themselves in there. Burning bright.

How awfully poetic.

She would laugh at you if you ever told her those thoughts. You know she has read poetry so profound, it’s beyond anything your young mind could ever come up with.

Yes, they are definitely burning as she continues to stare at you. You aren’t used to her keeping her eyes on yours for long periods of time. It never happened before she… Before.

It’s so intense.

She doesn’t look as wild now, but you know this won’t be slow. You don’t want that anyway. There’s no time for slow. Not when you haven’t seen her in days. Not when her proximity is overwhelming your senses, because going from not having her here at all, to having her all over you is kind of amazing.

(You’re still angry.)

You tangle your hands in her messy hair and pull her forward to feel that mouth on yours. Her tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, _more_ , _more_. When her hand reaches the fly of your pants, you sigh, before she opens it up and just cups you through your damp underwear.

Now, that’s just mean.

“Carm.” Your voice is full of warning from both anger and need. It doesn’t always work, but this time it does and she moves under the thin cotton.

Firm, delicate fingers are stroking you into madness. You were so sure this wouldn’t be slow. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. She has to understand that, right? It’s been so long and you are clenching – _aching_ to have her inside.

“God.”

It’s the first time she has said a word since she walked through the door, but frankly you don’t care, because apparently she understood and she’s gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around her.

You must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; when your head falls back and mouth opens it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

Nails dig deeper into her back – You need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. The thought shouldn’t turn you on more than you already are, but it does, it really does and you want it harder. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on her shoulder, panting into her neck.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.”

The animal in her is just below the surface. It must be, because the sound she makes is nothing else but primal. You know she loves it when you tell her what to do. And you love it when she obeys.

She sets a pace that graces all the right spots, slick noises accompanying your huffs and whines, making you feel like a ragdoll. This is no effort at all for her. Holding you up easily and fucking you with determination.

But you can see it when you rest your forehead against hers. The sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know she needs this just as much. It forces your rage down to just a simmer and you cover her mouth with yours. But no, you remember that you’re supposed to be furious, and the kiss turns sloppier – All full of rolling tongues and teeth and heavy moans. You have to break it. You have to breathe to let out a yelp when she hits a particular spot that makes you believe there are stars imprinted in your eyes too.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. The hollow of her neck tastes salty when you run your tongue over her skin and you just let your open mouth rest there. It earns you a low groan. When you bite down hard, it earns you a whine.

There’s a rhythm to this; your lower back thudding against the wardrobe with your _oh god_ s and _fuck_ s singing in tandem, and you’re briefly reminded of dancing.

If only your waltzing self could’ve seen you now.

Breathing will never be necessary for her, but it doesn’t stop her from inhaling you with her nose buried in the hair right behind your ear. She trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in her hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to her.

Her name becomes an anagram of swearwords and _Carm_ s when your thighs start to quiver around her, the sounds of wetness and her heavy breathing taking you so high that eventually you shatter into her. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart – Writhing and wailing, clutching her to you.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You chant quietly on your way back to consciousness (you’re sure you were gone for a while), lips brushing softly against her throat.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please don’t leave me. Don’t go. Don’t go. Please.”

You’re shaking uncontrollably when she sinks down onto her knees, holding you in her lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” is all she has to offer right now, but it means everything in the world because Carmilla does not apologize. Carmilla doesn’t care.

She doesn’t care about anyone and possibly never will. 

Unless it should be about you.


End file.
